


Come Over When You're Sober

by venom_for_free



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Canon Compliant, Confessions, Families are mentioned - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, One Shot, Pining, Post-Canon, Relationship(s), Romance, Sad, Sexual Content, homophobia is very real in this universe, people are drunk a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:13:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27632566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venom_for_free/pseuds/venom_for_free
Summary: "Hello? Hi. Yeah. This is Yura. You probably know." A nervous chuckle. The words are slurred. "It's … I'm …" No coherence is left where usually poise and determination guide him. "My room number … you asked for it—last time. And I know I told you no. But today … fuck. Beka … I need you."Otabek sits on the lid of his hotel bathroom toilet. He's clinging to the phone in his hands with an iron grip. Doesn't answer. Can't reply. Another call, a moment later. He lets it go to voicemail, too."Fuck, Beka. I'm not kidding! I mean it. This time, I mean it!"--or: Otabek and Yuri are in love. Have always been. But the world doesn't want to see two men like this, so they hide their feelings as best as they can from one another and the world. Only when one of them is drunk they dare to break free. For years, it works. But what happens, when both of them end up drunk and longing at the same time?
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 24
Kudos: 62





	Come Over When You're Sober

**Author's Note:**

> Come Over When You're Sober, Pt. 1 (often shortened to COWYS Pt. 1), is the debut studio album by American singer and rapper Lil Peep and the only album to be released during his lifetime. It was released on August 15, 2017, by AWAL. The album was supported by four singles: "Benz Truck (гелик)", "The Brightside", "Awful Things" and "Save That Shit". Lil Peep died exactly three months after the album's release. Following Lil Peep's death, Come Over When You're Sober, Pt. 1 peaked at number 38 on the US Billboard 200.
> 
> [(Source)](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Come_Over_When_You%27re_Sober,_Pt._1)
> 
> In June, I saw someone with a "Come Over When You're Sober" hoodie and since then it is ingrained in my mind. I kept wondering, what had to happen between two people to make one or both of them not want to see their friend when they were at their weakest and most vulnerable state. This fic is the result.

"Hello? Hi. Yeah. This is Yura. You probably know." A nervous chuckle. The words are slurred. "It's … I'm …" No coherence is left where usually poise and determination guide him. "My room number … you asked for it—last time. And I know I told you no. But today … fuck. Beka … I need you." 

Otabek sits on the lid of his hotel bathroom toilet. He's clinging to the phone in his hands with an iron grip. Doesn't answer. Can't reply. Another call, a moment later. He lets it go to voicemail, too. 

"Fuck, Beka. I'm not kidding! I mean it. This time, I mean it!" 

He doesn't. They both know. They both don't mean it whenever they pull this shit. But they can't stop; neither of them can, and it's weak and disappointing, but they have so much to be strong for, so why not be weak for each other? 

The third call goes through. Otabek takes it because he can't handle declining once more. If Yuri is surprised, he doesn't mention it. Maybe he doesn't realize. He's too busy drinking more, smoking in his hotel room down the hall. A bad habit he picked up from Otabek during their summer in Almaty. Back when they were both younger, when words meant nothing and actions had no consequences. 

Now they do. Now, everything has consequences, which is why Otabek is hiding in the bathroom instead of going down the dark path to another room. He has to be a good man now. Not good enough to stay in bed with his wife, not if Yuri keeps calling. But it's not his fault, so he answers. 

The slurred pleas turn into soft moaning somewhere between the individual calls. When did that happen? It's half mortification and half wonder that stops him from hanging up. Yuri is touching himself just a few steps away from him, and Otabek hates himself for how much he wishes he could be there with him and guide his hand. Maybe even … no. Quietly, he listens. And if his own hand strays from time to time, what does it matter? At least he's still here. At least he's only listening. 

When Yuri finishes, it's with Otabek's name on his lips. Lewd. Broken. Sick. 

He hangs up, achingly hard, when Yuri begins to talk about _them_. 

\------------ 

Yuri is riding dick when his phone rings. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't answer. But it's Otabek's ringtone, so he picks up. He doesn't talk, though, tries to keep quiet. Otabek wouldn't like him fucking another guy, but Yuri can't just pretend the world is okay, get a wife, put two babies in her, and act like he's happy. 

He hasn't been happy since that one fucking summer in Almaty that left him with a broken heart and a stress addiction he doesn't talk to anyone about. 

"Yura? Fuck. Hey, baby. I thought you wouldn't answer." A chuckle, and alright, Beka is drunk again. It doesn't happen often, or perhaps it does, and Yuri just doesn't get to witness it. But it's a constant between them during competitions when temptation is at its worst. They used to be able to stay away from each other because hooking up during competitions is frowned upon. But now that they aren't on the ice anymore, it's much harder to be good. 

"I can't." That's all Yuri manages to say without having his moans spill into his words. But he doesn't hang up. He should. But he needs to hear what Beka has to say. 

"I'm alone," Otabek whines down the line. "You could come and—" 

Before Yuri can intervene, his companion decides to speak. "Oh, he will cum. Just not with you." And then he thrusts hard enough to make Yuri groan, even as he tries to hide it. 

Silence for a moment. Silence and then panted breaths. Slapping skin. Muffled moans, louder ones, before Yuri has to punch his companion's chest. "Shut the fuck up!" 

He wanted to hear what Beka had to say, but of course, now that he knows what's going on, Otabek is silent. Fuck. "Relax, princess." 

Yuri punches him again, but it's too late; Otabek hung up already. 

\-------------

It's summer, and the wind barely manages to jostle the leaves of the trees surrounding them. Yuri wishes it would be just a little colder. But it isn't, so he's stuck staring at Otabek's chiseled abs without the veil of a shirt. He's stiff in his pants, has been for a while, the curse of youth and developing sexuality. 

Just that Yuri's sexuality develops all wrong. He's supposed to like girls. The world told him again and again—his friends, his coaches, his family. Viktor Nikiforov being publicly shamed, shunned even, should be enough of an indicator to know what he's feeling isn't _right_. 

But fuck, Beka looks so good when he's greasy from working with his bike, when he's sweaty from exercise in the evening sun, when he's cooling down in the pool of his ridiculously wealthy and traditional family. 

Yuri is an outsider here, has always been, but it's fine, it really is; he’s doing _great_. At least they speak Russian for him. But sharing a language doesn't mean sharing their world. 

Otabek is the only one who understands him. 

Yuri can't afford losing that, no matter how much he wishes there was more to their relationship. They don't talk about their feelings for one another. Not after Barcelona when Beka proved to be the only person that mattered, except for Nikolai. 

So Yuri stays silent, stares into the sky, tries to recognize shapes in the clouds. He does his best to think about something that isn't warm skin and perfect muscles. Uselessly, of course. It doesn't help that Beka looks at him _like that_ again. He's probably not doing it on purpose, but the way his lips wrap around the cigarette makes Yuri itch. 

Now he needs his own cigarette, for various reasons. To be cool like Beka. To relax. To be an adult. To wrap his lip around the end, so he can give him the look he dreams of seeing. 

No one must know what Yuri dreams of, but sometimes, he can't help but imagine sharing his dark secret. 

\----------- 

It's summer, and the wind barely manages to jostle the leaves of the trees surrounding them. Otabek's mind is filled with impure thoughts about his best friend. 

The way he moves when he dances to Otabek's music, how he groans when he stretches, how his lips wrap around the cigarette Otabek offers unwillingly. Not because he's worried about Yuri's health, oh no, he's not a hypocrite. But because he can't handle having to be the responsible one. How is Otabek supposed to live through this for the entirety of their summer? One answer. He won't. 

He's hard, and so is Yuri, and neither mentions it, even though Otabek wants to. It's wrong. Yuri is seventeen, and he's doing enough dumb shit as it is, smoking and drinking and not so sneakily masturbating in the shower. Otabek always listens, touches himself right next to him, separated only by a wall and a thousand 'no's that come from neither of them. 

Loving men is a sin—says his family, says God, says society. But it's not a choice Otabek made to dream of soft white legs wrapped around his middle, grunts in his ear, scratch marks on his back. Yuri would leave scratch marks; he’s sure of that. 

So he wills his thoughts away, forces himself to sober up. No more. 

\----------- 

It takes them twenty days. Twenty days of both of them drinking, smoking, yearning, pining, longing. 

When one of them is drunk, it's hard. Or easy. Depending on who it is. Yuri doesn't struggle with being smashed. Otabek doesn't mind being drunk. It's always the other who is trapped, has to fight their friend off with sad stares and barely-there head shakes. 

At least they both know what they are longing for now. But it breaks them, one night when they are camping, and they have a little too much of everything around the fire before they head back to their tent. 

Twenty days, then their friendship dies for a year. 

\------------- 

**_From: Yuri PlIsetsky_ **

_I'm legal in the rest of the world now, too, you know?_

The banquet after world's 2019. 

Otabek is very well aware. He doesn't respond until a few days later when thousands of kilometers separate them instead of a dozen steps. They build their friendship back up from there, but it's tarnished now, and they both know it. 

\------------

**_From: Otabek Altin_ **

_I'm going to get married._

Summer of 2023. 

Yuri saw it coming. Otabek's girlfriend—fiancé—is a nice woman he met for the first time three years ago at Otabek's birthday. She's pretty, she likes to sing, she's athletic, and most of all, she's a woman. Yuri tried to be happy for them. The last three years, he did what he could to pretend. But she knows something, always has, so she's trying to force Yuri out of Otabek's life. 

And he doesn't appreciate that. So Yuri doesn't tell her when her newly wedded husband cries into his suit jacket, two hours after saying _'yes.’_ He doesn't tell her when Otabek asks for dick pics once she's in bed and he's buzzed enough. Or maybe she isn't in bed yet. Or he wakes her up after that because Yuri did the math and that instance was close to their first baby being conceived. 

The idea that Otabek only gets it up for him makes Yuri send more pics. For a while. Then, Otabek tells him to stop. So he does. For a bit, there's radio silence between them, then Yuri starts to receive pictures of Otabek's cock. He considers them an apology. 

He shows his gratefulness by sending a video of himself jerking off to those pictures. Otabek sends one back. His wedding band glints in the phone light. 

\----------- 

"Can I come over?" Yuri murmurs into his phone, voice small, pleading, obviously broken by more than just the third place of his favorite student. 

Otabek turns around, stares at his empty bed. He's been good. He hasn't touched the minibar yet. From his nightstand smiles the picture of his family. He keeps them close, a reminder. A warning, when Yuri is close by. "No. You're drunk." 

"You always let me stay in your room during competitions!" He used to when they were children. That's what he tells Yuri, who just whines louder. "I had a shitty day, and I can't pretend any longer, Beka! Please, can I—" 

"Come over when you're sober." Otabek hangs up. Yuri goes back to Russia early the next day. 

\----------- 

"She's asleep, you know? Can't hear us." 

"I don't care. Go back." Yuri unscrews a bottle of wine. He will not drink until they hang up, and even then, he'll lock his phone for a few hours. The unspoken rule is, only one of them can ever get drunk. Almaty taught them what happens when they both want too much, dare the world to be kind when they know it won't be. 

"I'm going to come over." Otabek's voice is a whine, a cry, a sob. _Please love me._ And, of course, Yuri does. He just isn't allowed to, that's all. 

One of them has to keep a clear head. "Come over when you're sober." It stings, still does, when he throws Otabek's words back at him. Almost a year between those incidents passed, but for Yuri, time stands still when his best friend is involved. 

A gasp from the other end. Otabek probably didn't expect him to remember. Or perhaps he's insulted. Who the fuck knows? Who cares? Everything hurts, whatever the reason is. Yuri takes a swig right from the bottle when the voice in his bedroom beckons him to come to bed. He hangs up before he even detaches his lips from the bottle. 

\------------- 

**_From: Otabek Altin_ **

_We are pregnant again._

Strange. Yuri didn't even send him dick pics this time. He catches himself gigging at his own joke, then laughing, then gasping, then choking, then sobbing. 

Otabek doesn't hear back from him for almost a week. Then, Yuri sends him a thumbs up. 

\------------

**_From: Yuri Plisetsky_ **

_Guess I finally found someone, too._

It's a lie. It has to be. Otabek would have heard of it already if Yuri was seeing someone. The tabloids follow his every step. He's a fucking star, even though he plans to end his career this season. Going out with a bang. It's so Yuri. 

Should he indulge his best friend? Pretend there's actually someone there who Yuri loves? Someone that isn't Otabek? Ah fuck, why not? 

He texts back congratulations immediately, not days later. Yuri answers with a photo. It's him and a girl. She looks suspiciously too much like Mila. There's a ring on her finger, and Yuri, who kisses her cheek. Otabek's phone breaks that night, but when his wife asks, he says it fell from a table. 

\-----------

"Lydia?" A thin smile. Otabek extends his hand. 

"Yes." She grins and shakes it. Her fingers are warm against Otabek's own, clammy hands. It must be unpleasant to touch him, but there are no fucks left to be given. "It's so nice to finally meet you." 

Mila's cousin, as it turns out. No wonder she looks like her. "And you're Yuri's girlfriend." 

"I sure am." 

Otabek blinks owlishly. He feels stupid for asking. It's so apparent, Yuri stood right there and introduced her as precisely that. It's just … "I didn't expect him to—" _like women._ Otabek is bisexual, even though he leans toward men. But Yuri? He's not _like that._ In hindsight, Otabek can't remember Yuri ever talking about anyone. Not in a serious manner. He fucked around left and right, but Otabek doesn't think there was ever a girl. 

"Yeah?" 

"—hide you from me. For long enough to get engaged." Yuri hasn't even told him about the engagement. It was a tabloid rumor. Otabek called him so Yuri could correct their wedding headlines, but as it turned out, the only one wrong was Otabek. 

Lydia is charming. She smiles wide. "Don't worry, we hid it from everyone. We didn't want it to turn into a distraction for him as long as he's still active. But now …" she bumps her hip against Yuri's, and he _laughs_. Otabek might need to vomit. 

\---------- 

Yuri clings to her hip, holds her tight, kisses her even when no one seems to look. Until the house is empty. The guests leave, and they take Yuri's fake smile with them, perfected on the ice over all those years. 

"So that was him." 

"Yeah." 

"He seemed to be …" 

_Fine. Over it. Collected. Happy._ Yuri doesn't want to fill the void. He wants to keep aching because that's all he has left now. "He never cared about me the same way I did. And if he did, it's long gone." 

Lydia plays with his hair for a while and braids it. Then, she calls her half brother to come over. The TV is background noise to his complaints. Lydia, the angel, listens to all of them before she eventually opens the door for her half brother. Yuri watches her leave for her room, just when the guy glides down and between his legs. 

\-----------

**_From: Yuri Plisetsky_ **

_I'm getting married, and you'll be my best man_

_Also, your daughter better tosses flowers. She’s perfect_

\------------- 

**_From: Otabek Altin_ **

_Works for me. I'm getting a divorce._

\----------- 

"Is Lydia with you?" 

"Ly—no. She's in Saint Petersburg."

"Can I come over then?" 

"Are you sober?" 

"Are you?" 

Yuri laughs, but there's no happiness in it. "Yeah." 

"Me, too. We could get drunk together." It's a tempting offer. It's also very dangerous. 

"What will your wife think?" That won't be a problem much longer, but they are still married, so he's taking no risks. 

"And yours?" 

"Just come here." 

Fifteen minutes later, there's a knock on his door. Otabek is still so fucking handsome, even though age changed him here and there. Yuri steps to the side. "Wine?" 

"You know what happens when we both drink." Otabek marches to the minibar and grabs a bottle. They haven't done this since half a lifetime ago. He takes two mugs from the hotel tray; this will be fucking classy. 

Yuri nods when he raises a brow, asks, silently, if this is what they are doing. "I'm sorry about your divorce." 

"No, you aren't." Yuri flinches, then frowns. "You always wanted me to yourself." Otabek can't hide a little smirk and hands him a mug. "Well, here I am. What about you?" 

"I'm engaged." Yuri takes a sip. It looks like mulled wine the way it swishes around, but no spices make his tongue prickle as the alcohol goes down. 

"You're drinking, anyway." 

"Would you rather I stop?" 

Silence. Then, "I wish it was that easy." Are they still talking about the wine? 

"Did you ever love her?" Yuri can't help but wonder. They always looked happy for press conferences and tabloid pictures. The kids are lovely. But what about Otabek? 

His only answer is a smile. "And you?" 

"I'm engaged." He's a broken record, obviously. But there's not much else Yuri can say in his defense, so he takes another sip. 

"But how do you feel about her?" Why does Otabek have to sound so desperate, so lost, so much as if he actually cares? That can't be it. This is a game they used to play, and it's just another round of it. Just that they are both going all in today. 

"I like her." 

"Like?" 

"FUCK'S SAKE, BEKA. What do you want to hear? She's a lesbian! And her girlfriend is lovely, by the way. I'm fucking gay, yeah, _still_. And if anyone finds out, my job will be fucking gone! No parent will let me teach their children anymore!" 

Otabek seems dumbfounded, and it's almost worth it. "She's an alibi." 

"OF COURSE SHE'S AN ALIBI!" It's hard to keep his composure. The desire to toss the mug is overwhelming, but Yuri reins it in with all his might. "ALL I EVER WANTED WAS YOU! BUT YOU HAD TO GO OUT THERE AND GET A FUCKING GIRL PREGNANT!" 

They shouldn't yell about it. The entire hotel will know in the morning, and that's the last thing they need, but fuck, this conversation is over a dozen years too late. 

Otabek reaches for the wine and puts it aside. They both drank just a few drops, nothing close to enough to get drunk. But nonetheless, it all lands on the side table before Otabek drags Yuri to bed. They stumble and fall as they did their entire lives, and the old dance starts anew. In the morning, they would act like they were hangover, didn't register what happened, barely remembered, if at all. 

But they both know their tolerance is far higher than they like to pretend. Neither will mention it when they turn around and walk away, each to their own lives. In another story, they could have been together, could have been happy, could have found love. But not in this hotel room at 9:34 PM on tumbled sheets. Not when they have to fear being locked away if anyone sees them kiss. 

They can continue to pretend it doesn't matter when they wake, bearing the marks of one another, but deep down, they'll know. No one would ever replace their one true love. 

Which is why Yuri climbs him with reckless abandon. Why they tear their clothes off, hands, lips, teeth. They bleed their love into the sheets, holding tight, holding on. Until morning comes. 

\-------------

Yuri's legs wrap around him. They kiss, smoking hot, sweet like forest fruit. Hands reach for one another, hold on, desperate. The stench of cigarettes clings to their skin, there's alcohol on their lips and love in their hearts. 

It's clumsy. Something they wanted forever, something they allow themselves tonight because they are drunk and they won't talk about it in the morning. 

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

The air is stiff with need, they smell like sweat and coffee and a foreign atmosphere, yet all they can focus on is the sensation of each other under their palms. 

They are naked within seconds. But what now? All they have is saliva. Neither of them came prepared, so Otabek licks his palm as Yuri gathers their dicks into his hold, tugs eagerly. 

Both of them act as if they haven't ever seen a cock up close, stare down, lick lips, palms, one another. They shouldn't fuck, they shouldn't, it will hurt for days, for both of them. But what do they have to lose? Other than one another?

Prep is messy and quick. Not enough, never enough without proper lube, but neither felt right packing it into their luggage. 

Doesn't matter. Nothing matters. What’s a little pain compared to love? There's so much urgency between them, even though there shouldn't be. They have all night, just the two of them, every other soul outside of their joined space completely worthless, irrelevant, meaningless. 

_Yuri. Otabek._

_I love you._

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

_Otabek. Yuri._

Pain mingles with pleasure soon enough to justify their crude methods. In a world where they aren't allowed to be themselves, being with each other is everything. 

One, two, three thrusts. Slowly at first, picking up then. It's torture. 

_Yuri. Otabek. Otabek. Yuri._

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

Skin on skin, lips on lips. Yuri can't be motivated to be quiet, and Otabek refuses to silence the only noise he’s ever wanted to hear. 

_Faster. Harder. More._

_Consume me._

Shoving around. Yuri can't be bothered when his face is pressed against the side of their tent. Otabek won't stop fucking him just because it was raining before and the wetness seeps into his skin. Makes the tears disappear. 

_Pleasure._

_Pain._

_More._

_Harder._

_Faster._

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

The world is trying to tear them apart, rams claws into soft skin and rips it open. Here they are, bleeding for one another. Bleeding love. Love. Love into the rough sands of the Almaty mountains. 

They don't talk. Aren't allowed to talk. 

But they kiss when they close their eyes that night, hands curled around one another. 

The world is a cruel place, but they have each other now. Everything will be okay. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> > Thank you, as always, to my wonderful editor [Taedae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taedae/pseuds/Taedae), and to you as the reader.  
> I'm also on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/venom-for-free)[, Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/venom_for_free/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/venom_for_free)


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